Seeing Sense
by emerald-nellie
Summary: Sybill Trelawney has a job interview.


Seeing Sense 

Sybill Trelawney pulled her shawl tighter around her body as she hurried along the dark road to the Hog's Head. This would be the second time she was meeting with the headmaster, and she had to make a good impression: she needed this job. Her first meeting had gone very well, she thought. She had fallen into a _real_ prophetic trance and actually predicted something. What luck! Things had really been going well lately, except now she was running late.

Sybill quickened her pace, her shoes clacking on the cobbled road. For the week since her last meeting with the headmaster, she had been planning all the mysterious things she could say to him, heightening her chances of the job. She wanted to fake another trance but the problem was, she didn't know what it was like to be in one. She didn't remember anything about actually _being _in it. This frustrated her greatly.

She reached the door of the inn and yanked it open. A bell tinkled somewhere out the back. She didn't hang around in the main parlour, but instead headed straight up to the room above where she had met with the headmaster last time.

She reached the door and, hoping he was also running late, pulled it open. Unfortunately, there he was sitting in the armchair in front of the fire.

"Good evening, Ms. Trelawney," he said, smiling warmly at her.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore, I prophesised that you would exceed me in arriving here tonight," she said in the most mysterious voice she could muster. As an after thought, she waved her arms around for added affect. The many bangles hanging from her wrists clanged and clashed, and her necklace of bells tinkled.

"Did you now?" Dumbledore asked, seemingly unfazed by her theatrics. He motioned to the other armchair, "Please, take a seat."

Sybill hurried into the room and plopped into the chair. She rested her hands in her lap and stared expectantly at the headmaster. When he didn't say anything, she decided to break the silence.

"I, uh, had another vision, too. I saw us both sitting in this room, and I saw you giving me the job," she said, and flailed her arms again. This time one of her bangles flew off her wrist and rolled under a cupboard next to the fire. She smiled sheepishly at Dumbledore and laughed nervously.

Sliding off the chair, she got on her hands and knees and reached under the cabinet. She felt around for a few seconds but couldn't find the bangle. Deciding it wasn't important, she returned to her seat. There was a bit of dust on her knees that she hit with her palms to get off.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and the bangle came soaring out from under the cupboard and landed in Sybill's lap. "Would you like a drink?"

"No!" she yelled as a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses appeared on the table in front of her.

"No?" Dumbledore asked with a raised eyebrow, but with a flick of his wand the bottle and glasses disappeared nonetheless.

"I'm not thirsty," Sybill said.

"But we are at a pub. Surely you foresaw that you would be offered a drink," the headmaster said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Oh, but I did!" she exclaimed, enthusiastically thrusting her arms in the air.

"Of course you did. But we are not here tonight to discuss what you saw and what you didn't. There will be plenty of time for that in the future. We are here tonight because I have an open position at Hogwarts and am in need of a new Divination teacher. I am aware that you are the ancestor of the very successful Cassandra Trelawney," Sybill nodded her head eagerly and was about to interject but Dumbledore raised his hand to silence her, "and I am also aware that you possess little of her gift. I was almost certain that you had none at all, but last week you proved me wrong."

Dumbledore stopped talking and stared at Sybill. She felt a tad uneasy under his gaze and looked away. A couple of times she opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. All in all, this gave the impression of a gawping fish.

"So are you giving me the job or not?" she asked in exasperation, all traces of airiness and mysteriousness gone from her voice.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" the headmaster asked, an amused smile on his face. "Term starts on the first of September, you will be required to make your way to the school at least one week prior to this date. Living quarters will be arranged within the school for you, and you will be provided with all the equipment you require for teaching."

Sybill hesitantly raised a finger into the air, "May I make a request, headmaster?"

"Certainly."

"Is there a tower available? I quite like towers. One without windows would be even better…" she trailed off, "Also, is there a recommended syllabus that I need to teach from?"

Dumbledore looked taken aback. "Divination has been held in the North Tower in the past, and that's where it will continue to be held in the future. There is a large window in the classroom, but none in the office above."

"Ah, good, and the syllabus?"

"I will be in touch with you and send a copy of the textbook used in the past, but some of the main areas cover palmistry, dream interpretation, crystal ba--"

Sybill jumped into the air and fell back into her chair with a soft thud. "No, professor, I'm afraid that is completely out of the question! I cannot consult with crystal balls, I'm sorry."

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Ms. Trelawney?" Dumbledore asked, his brow furrowed.

Sybill rubbed her hands together for a while and looked around the room. She tapped her left food on the ground and chewed on her tongue.

"Well, uh, headmaster, I have a slight problem, you see," she continued to look around the room; anywhere but at him. "Yes I have a bit of a problem. I have a slight – fear, Shall we say? – Yes, a slight _fear_ of… uh… glass. Crystal, also."

She looked up at the headmaster to see his reaction. He was staring into the fire, lost in thought, and nodding his head faintly.

"You didn't _predict_ that this might be a slight issue?" he asked, looking up at her.

"I can still have the job, though, can't I?" Sybill asked anxiously.

"Well, yes. The only other applicant was Mundungus Fletcher," Dumbledore mused.

"Thank you, headmaster," she sighed from relief and struggled out of the chair to leave.

"But I expect you to do something about this problem you have. I cannot have my Divination teacher afraid of her crystal balls."

Sybill made a quite unattractive face at the back of the door, "Yes, professor."

"Good evening, Professor Trelawney."

She said a quick goodbye and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She raced across the parlour again, ignoring the bartender's queries of a drink, to escape all the banging of glasses and bottles.

Once back out in the dark, cobbled street, she let out a sigh of relief. She had got the job. She whooped for joy, jumping in the air and pumping her fist above her head. Slipping on the residue from the recent rainfall, her feet slid out from underneath her and she fell in a heap on the ground. Her bangles and the chain of bells hanging around her neck went wild and created quite a racket. She quickly got to her feet, brushing herself down. She arched her neck around, looking over her shoulder, to see whether anyone had witnessed her embarrassing escapade. When she was quite sure they hadn't, she continued – more carefully this time – down the road. A couple of times she almost tripped on the hem of her long skirt but caught herself just in time.

Once she was outside the borders of Hogsmeade, she turned on her heel and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron: her current place of residence.

Once outside the old tavern, she hurried up to her room. She had been staying there for the past month, and had transfigured all the glass in the room into plastic.

Exhausted from her exciting night, she lay down in her bed, took her thick, plastic glasses off and put them on the bedside table, and fell into a heavy sleep.

"Please children, take a seat, make yourselves comfortable," Professor Trelawney said to her class.

The group of third years made their way through the maze of pouffes, armchairs and small, round tables. Once they had all taken their seats, Sybill spoke up again.

"Today, children, we will be studying crystal balls. Get into groups of three and I will hand them around. Be very careful with them, as they are very expensive. You will need to adopt the techniques we have talked about in our recent classes…" she trailed off mysteriously and went to collect as many crystal balls as she could carry. She returned to her large armchair and dumped them all before going to get some more. After she had enough, she began handing them around. She gave the last one out and returned to her seat in front of the fire.

"Now, first thing you should try and do--" she started but was interrupted by an obnoxious young boy with horribly long hair.

"Are these made of plastic?" he banged it on the table a few times, "These are made of plastic. They aren't really crystal balls."

Sybill flushed and looked down her nose at the boy, distaste written all over her face.

"--is look into your _crystal _ball and…" she continued as if nothing had happened, "oh, just read page thirty."

She sat in her armchair, arms crossed across her chest, for the entire duration of the lesson. How dare anyone question the authenticity of her crystal balls! Granted, they weren't actually made of crystal – she had transfigured them into plastic – but they still retained the same magical qualities.

Class ended and Sybill shooed the students out of her tower. It was lunchtime, but she didn't go down to the Great Hall to eat with everyone else. Rarely did she leave her tower, especially for such trivial pursuits as eating: she could always get the house elves to bring her meals. In the Great Hall there were class goblets, and children with glasses, and in short there was glass everywhere.

Sybill took a cigarette out of her pocket and stuffed it in her mouth, lighting the end with her wand. She took a long drag and blew the smoke out into the air. It mingled with her usual incense and created a rather sickening smell.

At that moment, the trapdoor into the room opened up with a bang. Off in her own daze, Sybill screamed and fell off her armchair, landing on the floor with a faint thud.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said professor Dumbledore's voice, "Weren't you expecting me?"

"What? Oh, I mean of course I was," Sybill said in her floaty, mysterious voice. "I saw you coming, professor, I just didn't realise it would be so soon."

"Of course you didn't. Now, professor Trelawney, you have been teaching here for many months now but I still seem to feel that you haven't done anything about that problem we talked about," Dumbledore said as he took a seat on one of the pouffes.

"What on earth would make you think that?"

The headmaster looked pointedly at the large curtains covering the window and the plastic crystal balls that still littered the room.

"I'm… working on it."

"Well I am going to give you a bit of help. One of our new members of staff is highly skilled in Legilimency and Occlumency. I feel that a session with him may be enough for you to overcome this issue. I'll send you arrangements after I've talked to him about it. But don't worry," he said, noticing the look of uttermost horror on Sybill's face, "you will be very safe with him. He is one of our most popular members of staff amongst professors and students alike. Of course, you would know this if you ventured out of the tower once in a while."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he left her alone in the room. This was just what Sybill needed: someone prying into her personal life and into her emotions. Well, at least he was well liked, which probably meant he was nice and considerate as well. The thought never crossed her mind that perhaps professor Dumbledore hadn't been completely honest with her.

Two days later, an owl arrived at the North Tower with a letter for Sybill. She had to transfigure the window into rice paper to let the owl inside. The note was from Dumbledore and outlined her arrangements with a professor Severus Snape. She hadn't met him before, hell she hadn't even heard of him before. Not that she had met many of the other professors; it was rare that one ventured to her tower.

At half past seven the following evening, Sybill descended the ladder from the round room and found herself on the Outside. She walked quickly down to the dungeons, averting her eyes whenever she came in close proximity to something made of glass. She stood in the Entrance Hall for a full eight minutes before summoning the courage to run beneath the four house hourglasses and into the dungeons.

She was relieved when she finally reached professor Snape's office. She knocked hesitantly on the door and waited. She was getting tired of waiting and was about to knock again when a voice called out from the inside.

"Enter," the word was long and drawn out, and sounded completely unwelcoming. It made Sybill nervous, but she pushed the door open and continued in nevertheless.

Sitting behind a large, oak desk was a hook-nosed man with long, greasy, black hair. He had sallow skin, uneven, yellow teeth and, all in all, a very unappealing look. Sybill recoiled in revulsion, turning her nose up.

"I'm professor Tre--"

"Yes I know who you are," Snape said resentfully, his arms crossed.

They remained in silence for a few minutes, him sitting and her standing. She started fidgeting, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Professor Dumbledore said you'd help with my phobia," she blurted.

"Your phobia?" Snape raised his eyebrow, a smirk forming across his face, "and what is this phobia?"

"I'm scared of glass," she said in barley more than a whisper.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Snape replied, his smirk growing.

"I'm scared of glass!"

The room was quiet for a minute until Snape let out a sound that could have been vaguely interpreted as a snigger.

"Yes, I am aware of that," he went on, "The headmaster has left instructions with me to aid you with this… issue… by means of Legilimency. I'm sure you know what this is?"

"Of course I do," Sybill snapped, rather disliking the professor.

"Indeed. I am going to plant a false memory into your mind. In _simple_ terms," he looked her up and down pointedly; "I am going to provide you with the recollection of having conquered this fascinating phobia. The headmaster is hoping that this will be enough to pull you out of this drivel. I, however, fear it will not, and instead of risking another meeting such as this one, I am supplying you with a potion in addition. You will take this potion every day for a fortnight. Understand?"

Sybill nodded dumbly, not quite sure what else she could do.

"Good. Let's get started then. Believe it or not I _do_ have better ways of spending my Friday night."

Snape drew his wand and cast a spell. That's all Sybill could remember. When she woke, she was lying on the cold floor in Snape's office and her head hurt. Groggily, she got to her feet.

"You fell. I'm dreadfully sorry," said Snape. He didn't sound sorry at all. "Regrettably, I have finished. I suggest you go to the hospital wing and see Madam Pomfrey. You fell quite hard."

"Thank you, professor, for your concern," Sybill said bitterly.

"Take this potion," Snape continued as if he hadn't heard her, "Every day for the next two weeks."

He handed it to her; it was in a glass flask. Her first impulse was to withdraw, but she found that she wasn't nearly as horrified by it as she had been before. That meant that Snape had actually done a good job. The thought frustrated her.

She grabbed the flask out of his hand and turned to the door.

"Looks like you're cured," he said, his tone amused.

Sybill took a deep breath. She turned around, flailing her arms, her bangles and beads going mad. Quivering, she fell onto her knees and rolled her eyes around, trying her best to look mad.

"When the last day of this month comes to pass, you will suffer a painful death. Yes a _very _painful death," she said in her most mystifying voice yet. She got up off the ground and ran to his side, "I'm… I'm seeing your death. Yes, yes a horrible death! I can see it, right here before my eyes!"

Snape raised a thin eyebrow, "Intriguing."

She could see she wasn't having much of an effect on his so she brandished her hands in his face, waving her bangles. "I can see it, right now, before my very eyes."

"Just take that potion like I told you to," he said, his voice strained, "and maybe you will start seeing _sense_, you crazy old bat."  
Sybill could tolerate many things, but being called a 'crazy old bat' wasn't one of them.

"You know what?" she asked, her mysterious demeanour vanquished, "You can keep your damn potion; I don't want it."

With that, she threw the flask down in anger, resulting in it smashing on the ground and spilling its contents all over the dungeon floor.

In one final act of boldness, she gave Snape the finger, slammed the office door behind her and sped down the corridor muttering incoherently to herself, her sequinned-covered shawl billowing behind her.


End file.
